


Hungry

by scullywolf



Series: TXF: Scenes in Between [143]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, First Time, MSR, Missing Scene, Pre-Episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 07:02:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8046820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scullywolf/pseuds/scullywolf
Summary: When two people have been quietly in love with each other for years and then finally decide to get together, well… things can escalate quickly.





	Hungry

It’s not _really_ any great surprise how he found himself here. After all, when two people have been quietly in love with each other for years and then finally decide to get together, well… things can escalate quickly. Even so, some part of him still can’t believe that mere days after their first kiss, he’s gasping Scully’s name while she straddles him on his couch.

Not bad for a guy still recovering from major brain surgery.

It’s impulsive and frenetic and unrestrained, everything that first kiss wasn’t. She rocks against him with her head thrown back, her knees clamped firmly on either side of his hips, and god, it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his entire life. None of his fantasies -- and he’s had _many_ \-- could even come close to touching the reality of this moment. When she shatters around him, stars explode behind his eyes as he immediately follows suit with a strangled groan.

He gathers her to him after, burying his face in her neck until he has to pull away for air.

“Scully, I… that was… that was completely--”

(Damn. He's usually a hell of a lot more eloquent than this.)

“Yeah.” The smile on her flushed face is almost enough to take his breath away all over again. “Yeah, it was.”

His eyes go wide as a sudden thought emerges through the fog in his brain. “Should I… shit, it's probably weird if I don't call you Dana. I mean, under the circumstances. It’s just that I…”

“Still don’t want me to call you Fox?” she says gently.

It’s probably stupid, but his track record with the women in his life who have called him by his first name -- Phoebe, Diana, hell, even his mother -- is not exactly what you would call a resounding success. And Scully is _different_. What he has with her is so much bigger, so much better, and he doesn’t want that tainted by the name he’s grown to loathe hearing. Still… 

“It _is_ weird, huh? I mean, convention sort of dictates that this level of intimacy warrants a first-name basis--”

She laughs out loud, in the process clenching around him in a way that he is still _far_ too sensitized to handle. He yelps, involuntarily wincing away from her, and she stops, looking down at him apologetically. 

“Sorry. But Mulder, since when have we ever been bound by convention?” 

She smiles at him again and leans forward to kiss him softly. He sucks in a breath as she pushes herself up and off of his lap.

“I’ll just be a minute.” She gestures toward his bathroom before gathering up her scattered items of clothing and padding away to clean up. He watches her go, admiring the view and wondering again how he got so damned lucky. 

By the time she comes back, he’s cleaned himself up as well and pulled his soft flannel pants back on. His gaze is immediately drawn to the plunging neckline of her sweater, and when he drags his focus upward again, he sees her looking rather appraisingly at his bare chest. He sits up straighter at the attention, more pleased about it than he’s willing to admit. She smiles almost shyly at him as she sits back down on the couch, and he can’t help grinning broadly back at her.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi.” 

“All good?”

She nods, then licks her lips in that absent way she does that has long driven him to distraction. He wonders if she even knows how much. 

“Just for the record, I don’t mind if you want to call me Dana sometimes. But it’s also okay if you don’t. Honestly we’ve been… I don’t think of you as anything but Mulder. Maybe it’s strange, but… it would almost feel weirder to suddenly start calling you Fox after all this time. Especially if you didn’t want that.”

The sudden tightness in his throat takes him by surprise, and he pulls her wordlessly into his arms. Of _course_ she gets it.

“Thanks, Scully. Dana. Dana Scully.”

She snorts indelicately, and then they’re both laughing until he kisses her again.

***

He’s back in the office a few days later -- “C’mon, Scully, if I’m in good enough shape to rock your world, I can probably handle sitting at a desk and shuffling papers, don’t you think?” -- but it still takes a while before he can make it through a whole day without feeling completely wiped out by the afternoon. Whether or not this is a direct result of how he spends his evenings, he’s unwilling to examine too closely. He would sooner fall asleep right in front of Skinner than give up his new favorite hobby: mapping every single square inch of Dana Scully’s body, identifying the places that make her shiver and gasp, thoroughly quantifying precisely how to elicit sounds from her that make his heart gallop in his chest.

They’ve fallen into this physical relationship as smoothly and naturally as they fell into their initial partnership. It doesn’t really surprise him, but he marvels at it nonetheless. How it’s equal parts exciting and hot as hell and _fun_. He mourns the fact that they didn’t get around to taking this leap sooner, but they are definitely making up for lost time now.

At work, it becomes a game -- almost a competition -- to maintain the guise of platonic partnership while simultaneously trying to rile each other up. Things they used to do without a second thought take on a whole new meaning: conversations held with their mouths mere inches from each other, his hand on the small of her back, their apparent inability to share an elevator without standing right next to one another. What used to be desperate excuses for contact now represent challenges to keep from leaning in for a kiss or letting a hand slide somewhere typically reserved for interactions that are not strictly professional. 

His energy levels slowly improve, and after a couple of weeks, he’s got the endurance to consider getting back out into the field again. There is, after all, only so much paperwork and research he can stand before he starts itching to get out of the office and go investigate things first-hand, so when he comes across a report of an odd murder in California, he jumps on it. It’s just weird enough to technically merit their involvement without requiring a trek into the woods or something. A perfect case to ease them back into the swing of things.

Plus it’ll get them out of drizzly D.C. for a few days. Even Scully can’t argue with that.

When she meets him at the airport for their flight out, she’s wearing a wry grin, a slightly darker than usual shade of lipstick and, under her suit jacket, the same scoop-necked sweater he took off her in his apartment some two weeks earlier. He gapes at her, almost tripping over a baggage cart before regaining control of his faculties. She chuckles at him, shaking her head with a smug little grin he’d like to kiss right off her face.

Scully’s very deliberate wardrobe choice certainly has what is undoubtedly its intended effect. Once they’re on the plane, Mulder’s eidetic memory goes into overdrive every time he glances over, recalling in vivid detail how she’d looked above him, both before and after he’d pushed the sweater up and off her. He’s glad to have his suit jacket folded in his lap, neatly concealing the evidence of his wandering mind. 

For her part, Scully seems completely unperturbed, calmly reading her book just like she has on virtually every flight they’ve ever taken together. Mulder tries to settle back and take his usual nap, but it’s hard to relax when he’s hyperaware of every single place where his body is in contact with hers. He nearly jumps out of his seat when she begins casually dragging her toes along his calf; looking over, he sees her gaze still trained down on the book, but there’s an undeniable smirk on her face.

Oh, she knows exactly what she’s doing to him. He leans over to whisper in her ear.

“You really brought your A-game today, I see.”

“Agent Mulder, I haven’t got the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” she says mildly, turning a page.

It’s torture of the best variety, and he loves her more than ever for it. He’s certainly never had _this_ much fun on assignment. If the whole rest of the trip goes this way, well... his disposition will likely be even sunnier than the Golden State itself.


End file.
